3. Dominic
Dominic
C harisse’s full, warm lips on mine come as a shock to my system, jolting me into action like a man resuscitated. I’ve got one hand curled around her hip, holding her tight to me while I cup her neck with the other. My thumb coasts along her jawline as my tongue traces the line of her lips, begging for entry.
And when her sweet mouth falls open at last, I sweep inside for a taste. I press my advantage, growling a little as I take my fill of her. My tongue relishes the faint citrus flavor clinging to her tongue. My senses breathe in the bright, clean perfume she prefers over any of that cloying fake floral scent. My head swims with her, and my cock swells for her.
She kisses me back with equal fervor, nipping at my bottom lip as my fingers tighten to keep her there longer. I’m vaguely aware of a couple flashes of light—cameras snapping, video streaming—and I break off the kiss to the sound of loud cheering. Then I remember that I’m on the fucking stage of a goddamn piano bar.
Not that I give a single shit.
I’ve waited decades for Charisse to stop dating a long string of losers and finally release me from the penalty box that is the “friend zone.”
“Well, that was unexpected,” I say, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead before waving at the crowd.
I don’t know how the hell I’m going to get off this stage without anyone else noticing the enormous erection I’m sporting.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, pushing her hair out of her face. She steals a look up at me through her dark lashes, and I will my dick to calm the fuck down. “I got carried away.”
Her words act like a sudden dunk into ice-cold water, slowing the steady descent of my blood as I paste on a media-trained smile while she turns away to wave at the crowd. As she thanks them for their support and asks if they’d like to hear more, I slip off the stage and head to the bar for another drink.
Getting some space will do me good. Hell, some fucking air would probably help, too.
But I can’t not watch Charisse on stage. She’s magnificent up there, working the audience with the kind of confidence that has half the men in this place shooting me curious, questioning looks. I know what they’re thinking.
Are we together? Am I tapping that?
I fucking wish.
If Charisse could just see me as an actual option for something more…
I run my tongue along my teeth and gratefully snatch up the beer Diego extends to me.
“Happy birthday, Domino.” He clinks his bottle against mine, and we both take a swig while watching her parade across the stage, belting out a drawn out note that has people losing their minds. “She’s small but mighty.”
I snort. “Tell me about it.”
“Thought you two were just friends.”
“We are,” I answer wryly, remembering that for the first time in years, Charisse is unattached. I run my tongue over my bottom lip where the taste of her still lingers.
“Uh-huh.” Diego tilts his head at me, and I stare right back.
“She dropped Dr. Do Good, though. She’s single now.”
“Well, shit.” His eyebrows shoot up. “You’re fucked.”
“Yup.”
“You finally gonna do something about that lit torch you’ve been carrying all these years?”
“That obvious, huh?”
Diego sucks air through his teeth and claps me on the shoulder. “Well, it’s not hard to put two and two together. You never date, and any time Charisse pops into town, you rearrange all your plans to suit her. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she could be your girlfriend.”
“We’ll see,” I say, eying the liquid in my bottle with some curiosity as her performance switches to an emotionally soul-wrenching duet alongside her friend playing piano. “She’s always been untouchable. Unavailable. Out of my league.”
“Maybe. But if that kiss was anything to go by, bro, I don’t think she’s out of reach.” Diego thinks for a minute, surveying the crowd as their eyes follow her as if magnetized, mesmerized. “But if you don’t make a play for her, there’s clearly a helluva lot of others who would.”
He saunters off, back to Gavin and the other guys while I lean against a pillar and nurse my beer. The advice isn’t unfamiliar to me considering my own brother, Maddox, has harped on me time and time again that I can’t keep protecting my heart the same way I protect the net.
Historically, Charisse hasn’t been single for a space of more than a couple months. Someone’s always stepped in before I could make a play, or she’s been recovering from a previous relationship before she lands herself in another one that takes her off the market.
At some point, I have to make a move. Not just flirt and tease like I usually do, but actually lay my cards out so there’s no question about my intentions, no questions about where I stand.
Draining the rest of my drink as she finishes her set and jumps off the stage, I straighten as she makes her way back to me. But a large man moves to block her path. A wary wave of protectiveness washes over me when he grabs her wrist and her polite smile goes wooden. I take a step forward, waiting to see if she needs me.
She shakes her head no to whatever he says, but he gives her a hard yank, and she stumbles forward against his large chest while his arms band around her.
Oh, fuck no.
I tear through the crowd, shoving people aside in an effort to get to her. When I’m close enough to see her squirm, straining to get away, my vision goes red, and I don’t care that the bar’s security guys are closing in. I’m already here.
“Take your hands off her or I will rip your arms out of their sockets.” My voice is filled with barely controlled rage as I nudge the last person out of the way and wait for this dude’s eyes to land on me. He’s a big, muscled man, glassy-eyed and clearly inebriated. But I know I’m fast and limber and prepared to break a man’s face if I need to.
He sneers at me, his drink-slowed brain fighting to calculate whether a scrap with me is worth it.
“Let her go,” I bite out. He releases her and she hurries to my side. I sling a protective arm around her shoulders, trying to adopt a more nonchalant look than I feel with anger coursing through my veins.
“Let’s get out of here.” She scowls at him and tugs on my arm. “He’s not worth it.”
“No means no, jackass.” I start to turn aside, but he speaks up.
“My bad. I thought that kiss was just for show, you know. Trying to keep up appearances. Everyone knows you’re about as straight as a curveball thrown by that star pitcher the Spitfires picked up. You’ll stick that dick of yours in just about anything that will take it.”
“What the f—”
SMACK! The sound of Charisse’s open hand cracking right across his smug face echoes in the beat between the end of a song and the sound of applause around us. Stunned, I watch as Charisse gets right in his face. Her five-foot-one curvy frame vibrates with rage as she jabs his chest with her finger.
“Don’t you ever shame someone for what they like! Different strokes for different folks. No one here is judging you for your crap choice in domestic IPAs or your caveman manners, now are they? Though I guess I am. Rude.”
Then she spins on her heel, laces her fingers through mine, and marches us both out of the bar.
She drags me halfway down Main Street, ranting about the gall of some people and cursing anyone who dares talk shit about someone else’s private business.
I’ve always seen Charisse so clearly, but now? In this light, with this spark in her, I feel like I’m witnessing a woman who’s come into her own power.
And fuck, do I like it.
Midway through her spiel, she spins, snapping, “I can take care of myself, Dominic. You shouldn’t have risked a street brawl for me. Did you see the size of that dude? What if you’d been hurt? You’ve got to think of your career.”
It’s cute seeing her so worked up on my behalf, and honestly? I’m touched.
The only people that have ever had my back like that were Maddox and my teammates. Even then, it wasn’t always all my teammates, but most of them subscribed to the idea that what happens on the ice matters a hell of a lot more than what happens off it.
“Wh-What are you smiling at?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder.
“Just you,” I say, grinning. “Where are we going? Are you stealing me away to have your wicked way with me, Reece’s Pieces?”
“I—what? No!” She drops my hand so fast that I feel the sting of her rapid rejection like a puck to my cage.
Why can’t I stop teasing her? Why can’t I quit saying shit like that to her just to see if she’ll bite?
I don’t know why I can’t resist letting shit like that roll off my tongue.
That’s a lie. I know why I can’t help myself. It’s because I haven’t been able to shoot my shot with Charisse in damn near two decades. I’ve waited so long for her to see me as an option, to view me as a possibility, and in that time, I’ve watched her date men I knew wouldn’t ever treat her like the queen she is.
And after her quiet admission tonight? I know they didn’t do right by her, and fuck, I want to correct their clumsy, selfish mistakes and show her how her body can come alive with the right love and attention. I want to test her limits, give her every pleasure, learn exactly what makes her sigh and moan and wriggle.
I kept quiet because I was biding my time. Weighing the risks. Respecting her choices. Giving her space.
Fuck space.
She’s single now. She’s available now. I might never get another chance if I don’t shoot my shot… well, now .
But when I look up at her, her chest is heaving, and her expression can only be described as stricken.
“What is it?” I reach for her, my hands already out of my pockets and ready to tend to her, to help her, to do whatever she asks. “Are you upset about that on-stage kiss? You said it yourself, it didn’t mean anything. We just got carried away with the music—”
“No, that’s not it. I kissed you because I wanted to.” She meets my gaze and bites down on her bottom lip, worrying it with her teeth. Seeing it makes my cock tighten again, which is fucking inconvenient, considering. “I needed to know if… if… it’d be possible.”
My heart stutters.
I keep my voice level, wondering if maybe—just maybe—she might finally be seeing me as something more than a friend. Maybe she’s seen through my stupid jokes and has glimpsed the truth beneath them. Maybe she’s considering letting me do every filthy thing I can think of to her delectable, curvy body. “If what would be possible?”
“Shit. This isn’t how I thought I’d pitch this. I had a whole thing planned. A fun night out tonight. A day of indulgence tomorrow featuring our greatest hits—a pancake breakfast, a trip to the theme park where we’d turn our insides out going upside down at a hundred miles an hour, and a fancy dinner out.”
Crossing my arms, I quirk a brow at her. “I’m not twenty-two anymore. Those roller coasters give me headaches now, but I’m happy spending time with you. We can do anything—laze around the beach, hit up the movies or the indie bookstore where they exclusively sell those romance novels you like reading. What are you trying to butter me up for?”
She turns her big, soulful brown eyes up at me and I see the silver moonlight reflected in them. “I need a favor, Dominic. A big one.”
My gaze zeroes in on her full bottom lip. “Anything.”
“I want a baby. And I want you to help me make one.”